


Wheel of Fortune

by whelvenwings



Series: After the Fall [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelvenwings/pseuds/whelvenwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night spent together followed by a morning of misunderstandings, Dean and Cas head out with Sam to check out a case at a fairground. When the Ferris Wheel Fury leaves them stranded at the top of the ride, they'll have plenty of time to talk out their differences. And cuddle.<br/>(Just because it's cold.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wheel of Fortune

“This was a terrible idea,” Dean said, peering through the bars of the Ferris Wheel cabin and then pulling back with a shudder. “The worst idea.  _Ever_.”

“It was  _your_ idea, Dean,” Cas reminded him in a low voice, from the other side of the cabin.

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Well, that figures,” he said, settling himself down. They were in for a long wait.

**

_Earlier that day_

Dean was pulling on his jeans and pushing his hair into place with a quick, careless brush with a comb. Cas was still stretched out on the bed, reluctant to leave the warmth of the sheets. His pillow smelled of Dean.

“How are we going to tell Sam about this?” he asked, watching Dean tug a t-shirt over his head. His voice was relaxed and slow; he blinked lazily as the sun stroked a single golden finger down his cheek.

Dean froze. He turned to face Cas with a nervous smile; the expression was like a kick to the head for Cas, unexpected and unwelcome.

“What?” Dean said, his tone suddenly brittle.

“I said, how are we going to tell Sam about this?” Cas repeated, narrowing his eyes slightly. He’d spoken clearly, so Dean must have heard him perfectly… which meant that he was buying himself some time. Why would Dean need time? This was supposed to be a casual question.

“You want to tell him?” Dean asked, walking over to the bedside table and picking up his watch. “Now?”

“Not now, necessarily,” Cas said, propping himself up on his elbows. “But we should tell him at some point.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Dean replied, not meeting Cas’ eyes. “Maybe we could bake him a cake, and write it in the icing.”

“Dean…” Cas said, uncertain.

“Or we could get an airplane to write it in the sky. In those big vapour-trail letters, you know.”

“Dean..?”

“Or, hey, we could hire a team of ninjas to attack him. And then instead of killing him, they just whisper it in his ear and then leave. That’d be awesome. And dude, we’d get to meet the ninjas.” Dean frowned. “You reckon they’d like Star Trek?”

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas said. Dean shrugged.

Cas couldn’t understand it. Sam knew that Dean was bisexual, so it wasn’t a coming-out issue. If this was an issue at all – and it certainly seemed so, judging by the levels of avoidance – then it was a  _Cas_  issue.

“We’ll figure it out later, man,” Dean said, grabbing his bag and heading out of the door. “Let’s get this show on the road. Meet you at the car in ten?”

Cas nodded mutely, swinging his legs out of bed. Dean paused for a moment, his mouth open, and then snapped it closed and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

Cas swallowed hard, and began pulling his clothes on.

**

“How was Beauty and the Beast, Cas?” Sam asked, a hint of a smile in his voice. They were five hours into the journey, running low on snacks in Dean’s case, and patience in Cas’.

“It was wonderful,” Cas replied. “But it didn’t last.”

Dean sent him a sharp glance in the rearview mirror.

“No, well, it’s a movie,” Sam said, a little bewildered. “It’s not supposed to last, Cas.”

Cas broke the eye contact and paid attention to what Sam was saying.

“Right, yes,” he said. “It was a good movie. I liked it.”

“What’s next on the list?” Sam asked.

“The Lion King, I think,” Cas replied.

“I haven’t seen that one,” Sam said.

“You could watch it too,” said Cas, and Sam nodded.

“Sure, sounds good,” he said. “Dean, you wanna join?”

Dean shrugged.

“I’m not all that into Disney,” he grunted. Cas felt a little flare of anger.

“Dean –” he began, but Dean sent him a glare in the mirror, and he stopped.

Sam cleared his throat.

“Well, I’ve heard The Lion King is one of the best ones. So maybe you should give it a go, Dean,” he said.

“Might do,” Dean said. His tone was non-committal; apt, Cas thought.

Dean was scowling at him in the mirror, so he frowned back. He wished he understood what they were fighting about.

**

The case was simpler than Dean had feared it might be.

A spirit had been luring people into a fairground, their bodies always turning up on the Ferris Wheel; the internet had got hold of the story and gone nuts with it. It had seemed possible that the spirit was a tulpa, a local legend gone viral – but when they arrived and started asking questions, they soon discovered that the body count had been climbing way before the story became a sensation.

“Just your regular murderous ghostie,” Dean said with a grin. “Let’s go gank ourselves a spirit.”

The fairground was lit up bright and cheerful, but the happiness had a superficial air to it, like reflections off the surface of a deep, dark, dangerous lake. The people visiting were mostly thrill-seekers, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Ferris Wheel Fury, as it had been named. Dean led the way towards the infamous ride itself, which had a large crowd around it. He tutted, and turned away.

“We’ll come back when it’s quieter,” he said, looking over at a stand selling cotton candy and popcorn. “Keep an eye on it for now, make sure nothing goes down. You hungry, Cas?”

“I’m fine,” Cas said.

“Yeah, OK. I’m getting you a burger and you’re gonna eat it. Sam, for you?”

“Uh, no thanks, I ate in the car,” Sam said, looking curiously between Cas and his brother. Dean nodded and moved away.

“What’s got into him?” Sam said.

“He’s just Dean,” Cas responded, keeping his eyes fixed on the Ferris Wheel.

Sam nodded slowly.

“I guess so,” he said, sounding unconvinced.

**

When the fairground was quiet, the rides stilled and the lights dimmed, Sam, Dean and Cas returned to the Ferris Wheel.

“So, all the victims that our Fury’s been icing have been found here,” Dean said, standing in front of the Wheel and looking up at the very top. “So I figure, what if the thing tying it here is somewhere on the Wheel?”

“Shame no one knew about anyone who’s died around here,” said Sam, ducking under the railing and approaching the platform where people got on and off the ride.

“It does make sense, though,” Cas said, wanting to be a part of the conversation. “That the ghost would be appearing close to its anchor.”

Dean nodded.

“That’s why I thought we could search each cabin,” he said. “See if we can find anything strange.”

“And if not?” Sam asked.

“We set fire to the whole damn thing,” Dean said. “I don’t freakin’ know, Sammy. Just get over there and work the ride, will you?” He tossed Sam the lock picks. Sam moved over to the operating booth and made short work of the padlock bolting it closed. Inside the booth, he started pressing things randomly, turning the lights on the Wheel on and off, briefly allowing an incongruously cheery song to blare out of the speakers before finally finding the control that moved the Wheel. He flipped the lever, and the Wheel began to move; he turned it off when a cabin was aligned neatly with the platform where Dean and Cas were standing. Dean approached the cabin and peered inside.

“It’s just kind of dirty,” he said. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything here.”

“Hmm,” Cas replied. He found he didn’t care a great deal about the ghost, at that moment.

“Cas, you want to help, here?” Dean asked, not turning around, still rooting around under the cracked-leather seats.

Cas sighed and moved towards the cabin.

“Move, then,” he snapped, and Dean shifted to sit down on one of the seats, inspecting the ceiling. Cas stepped inside as well, running his fingers over the back of the chairs and between them.

“There’s nothing here,” he said.

“OK, then,” said Dean, standing up as far as he was able and pushing past Cas’ knees to exit the cabin. “Sam, bring round the next one! Get out, Cas.”

Cas was about to step onto the platform when the Ferris Wheel hummed to life, and the cabin started to move. Dean turned towards the operating booth, looking annoyed, but Sam had his hands held up; his expression was alarmed.

“Dean, I’m not doing that!” he called.

Dean turned back to the Wheel; the cabin was already lifting away from the platform.

“Cas!” Dean shouted. “Cas –”

In one jump, he leapt back into the cabin, crashing into Cas’ legs and knocking them both sideways. The Wheel started to pick up speed, whirling the sky past them, already dizzyingly fast. Dean groaned and began feeling around inside the cabin.

“It must be in here!” he called. “The anchor, it’s gotta be here, that’s what made it mad!”

They searched the cabin frantically as the Ferris Wheel kept going faster and faster. When Cas exhaled, he could see his breath – small, fast puffs of icy vapour. Dean took his knife and slit open the seat leather, feeling around in the spongy material beneath.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered. On the other side of the cabin, a white shape flickered into view. Its face was split with a too-wide, greyish grin.

“Dean!” Cas called, as the ghost reached out a hand, and he felt his whole chest clench with sudden cold. He struggled to take a breath.

“I got nothing!” Dean said, obviously trying not to panic. “Hold on!” He reached for his gun and aimed, shooting once. The ghost vanished; inside the cabin, the shot had been incredibly loud. Cas shook his head, trying to ignore the whining pain in his ears.

“We’ve got to find the anchor,” he said urgently. “Now, Dean!”

“This cabin is clean, man!” replied Dean. “Could you see anything about the ghost, anything that’d help?”

The world was still whirling sickeningly past outside the cabin. Cas swallowed.

“It was a man, I think,” he said. “He had a beard, maybe a headscarf.”

“What, was he a biker?” Dean demanded, and then ran his hand over the strips of torn black leather that had been the seat cover. “Wait. What if…”

He reached into his leather jacket, pulling out his lighter.

“Get back, get as far back as you can!” he said, pulling the leather off the chair. Cas ignored him, helping to tear off the last scraps of the soft, worn material. Dean drizzled a little oil over them, pushed Cas on to the ruined seat and roughly tucked his legs up, and then set fire to the leather.

It burned quickly. The fire was tall but not especially hot, the cracked old leather crumbling quickly to ashes. As it flared and smouldered down to dust, the Ferris Wheel came to a slow, creaking halt. Dean, pressed as far back against the cabin wall as he could, breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

“Why is this crap never simple,” he complained. “OK.” He sighed. “OK, we’re fine. Let’s go.”

“Yes… there could be a problem with that,” Cas said, peering out of the cabin. Dean groaned.

“No,” he said. “no. You’re kidding me.”

“Dean?!” they heard Sam calling from far, far beneath them.

Dean sat up and poked his head out of the cabin.

“We’re fine!” he called. “Get us down from here!”

Sam held out his hands hopelessly.

“It blew the mechanism,” he shouted. “I’ll try calling the Fairground Manager, but it’s the middle of the night.”

Dean sat back in the cabin, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

“Perfect,” he said. “Just  _super_.”

“So, we’re stuck,” Cas said. Dean nodded.

“This was a terrible idea,” he said, peering through the bars of the Ferris Wheel cabin and then pulling back with a shudder. “The worst idea ever.”

“It was  _your_ idea, Dean,” Cas reminded him in a low voice, from the other side of the cabin.

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Well, that figures,” he said, settling himself down. They were in for a long wait.

“Most of your ideas are good ones,” Cas said. “I like them. Even the ones you change your mind about later.”

Dean threw him a glance.

“OK, I’ll bite. What’s that mean?” he asked.

Cas looked down at his hands. They were cold, so he clasped them together.

“Nothing, Dean,” he said wearily. “I thought… after last night, I thought things would be different, that’s all.”

“Things are different,” Dean said, sounding confused. “Cas, I told you that I  _love you_.”

“Did you mean it?” Cas demanded, picking at the loose sponge of the chair that he was sitting on. On the other side of the cabin, Dean was leaning forwards in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees.

“How can you ask that, Cas,” Dean growled. “After we –”

“You don’t want to tell Sam about us,” Cas interrupted. “Are you ashamed of being with me? Or were you just planning on ending things so quickly that it wasn’t worth telling anyone about us?”

Dean stared at him, speechless. Cas stared back; it felt painfully familiar to be looking into Dean’s eyes, anger and confusion and a bitter twist of hope in his heart. He’d been so happy last night; how had it all fallen away so quickly?

“Sam?” Dean called suddenly. “Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean?” Sam shouted back. Looking down at him, Cas could see that he’d lifted his phone slightly away from his ear, squinting up through the darkness, pulling out his flashlight and aiming it at the top of the Wheel. Cas turned back, only to find Dean leaning over to his side of the cabin, a smile on his face.

“Lean out a little further, Cas,” he said, making sure that Sam could see them both – and then slid his hand up through Cas’ hair, and kissed him.

“Whoa, what the  _fu­­_ \- oh, hello, yes, um, good evening, sir. This is Agent Scott. I want you to put me in contact with the, uh, the… uh, yes, sir, sorry, I’m still here, it’s just… yes, I know it’s the middle of the night. There’s been an incident at the Ferris Wheel, sir, and there are some people trapped on it. No, they’re not dead, sir, they’re… they’re kissing. I mean, things happened before the kissing, the ghost came and the Ferris Wheel got stuck, and…  _would you guys stop, already_? Hello, sir, are you still there? Sir?”

Above him, Dean pulled away a little from Cas, pressed one more tiny kiss to his lips, and then looked down at his brother.

“I’m with Cas,” he called.

“Yeah, Dean, I… I guessed,” Sam said.

“It’s exciting, right?” Dean was wearing a big, stupid grin. Unable to help himself, Cas pulled Dean down for another kiss.

“Guys, come on, seriously? OK, you know what, I’m going to the motel. You guys can figure out how to get yourselves down. Not my problem. You pair of  _morons_.”

Cas and Dean watched him leaving.

“See you in the morning, Sammy!” Dean called. Sam waved. Cas could see in the glow of his flashlight that he was smiling slightly.

“Okay,” he said, when Sam was no longer in sight. “So you weren’t ashamed.”

“Not for one second,” Dean said fiercely, sinking into the seat on Cas’ side. “Never.  _Never_ , Cas.”

Cas nodded. He settled down in his own chair, rubbing his cold hands together.

“Then… what, Dean?” he asked. Dean opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He spread his hands, shrugged.

“I don’t know, Cas,” he said. “I… I mean, it hasn’t exactly gone well when Sam or me find someone we like, right? I just… I just thought, I had this crazy idea that if we didn’t tell anyone, then somehow – somehow the world would never find out, and everyone would just leave us alone, you know? It was dumb,” he muttered.

Cas swallowed and shook his head, and then put his hand over Dean’s. Dean twisted his hand, interlocking their fingers. His touch was warming, and Cas nudged his knee so that it could rest against Dean’s. He felt a light, fizzing current moving between them at the points where they touched.

“That’s not dumb,” he said. “I understand. It’s OK, Dean.”

“I can’t lose you, Cas,” Dean said seriously. “I just can’t. Whenever I think you’re gone… Jesus, man, I freakin’ lose it every time. And if we’re together… it makes it worse.”

“It does?” Cas asked. Dean nodded.

“Of course it does,” he said. “If I lose you now, I don’t just miss your voice and your attitude and your eyes and your terrible jokes. I get to miss so much more. Like, uh. How it feels to hold you. The way you kiss. How your hands feel in mine.” Dean swallowed. “The way you say my name. Like you did, last night.”

“Dean…”

“Love is opening the door to loss, Cas,” he said. “You can’t miss something you never had. You can’t lose something you never loved. I’m… scared, Cas. Maybe we should just…”

Cas bowed his head.

“No,” he said. “Dean, no. Listen to me.” Dean looked up to meet Cas’ gaze, his eyes glazed hard with unshed tears. “Loving you isn’t like opening a door to anything. It just… it doesn’t feel that way. Dean, it feels like closing a door. It feels like slamming the door on all those years we spent hovering around each other, never saying anything or talking about anything that really mattered. Those were the times when we were in danger. And now, we’re together, and we’ve closed those days away. Dean, they’re gone. And you have to trust that I’m going to do  _anything I need to do_  to stay alive. Because I have someone who I absolutely  _have_  to live for. I’m not going to leave you, do you hear me? I’m not leaving you.”

Dean was facing away, not moving.

“Dean?”

Dean gave a little choking laugh. He turned back to Cas, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You sappy son of a bitch,” he said. “Next time we’ll have to get stuck in the Tunnel of Love.”

Cas smiled, and allowed Dean to pull him into a hug.

“I’m sorry that we’re stranded up here,” Dean said. “I’m not going to because it’s no way to die, but if you wanted to climb down and go to the motel, that’d be OK. It’s cold up here.”

Cas shook his head, pulling away from the embrace and stretching his legs out to rest on the seats on the other side of the cabin. He leaned sideways and rested his weight against Dean’s chest, feeling his heart give a little happy kick when Dean draped his arm over Cas’ shoulders and put his chin on the top of Cas’ head.

“I prefer it out here,” Cas said.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean said, kissing Cas’ hair. Cas hummed.

“The sky out there, and us in here, and you holding me. Everything wrapped around everything. Keeping us safe.”

Dean pulled away a little, looking down into Cas’ eyes.

“You’re weird, Cas,” he said, his voice low and soft, private without being secretive, the tone Cas thought he might like best of all. The moonlight was like soft brushstrokes across his face, gentle as a white moth’s wings over his lips, his nose, his freckled cheeks; his eyes were deep and relaxed, with dabs of silver curled into the green. His smile was slight, but Cas thought that he had never seen Dean look at him with so much happiness; it was expressed more eloquently than a smile, described in the subtleties of the skin around his eyes and the slow, deliberate way that he blinked. It gave Cas an ache in his chest to see him like this, so close and real, gilded in silver like a king.

“You’re beautiful,” Cas said, because he didn’t know how else to show Dean the strong, nameless feeling that was rushing over him like a tide, pulled inevitably forward by the tug of the watchful moon.

Dean’s mouth fell slightly open at the compliment. After a moment, he pulled Cas back in against his chest, and cleared his throat.

“People used to call me pretty,” he said, and when he tilted his head slightly, Cas could see the blush on his cheeks, lilac in the silvery light. “Some still do. Not beautiful, though, that’s a new one.”

“Those people were wrong,” Cas said. “You’re not pretty. You’re  _peerless_.”

Dean laughed a little at that.

“It’s true, Dean. Don’t laugh,” said Cas. He hesitated. “I’ll never love anyone like I love you.”

Dean went still.

“So… uh, you do, then?” he said, his voice low, almost ashamed. “Because, you know. You didn’t say it, before.”

Cas wrapped his arm around Dean, poking him lightly in the side.

“Dean,” he said simply. “I love you.”

Dean’s deep and contented sigh felt like the swell of the sea as a great whale, a huge dark creature, crested the surface and then slipped back down to the depths, sated and content, with lungs full of air and eyes that had seen the stars.

When Sam turned up at five o’clock the next morning, an irate mechanic in tow, the Ferris Wheel’s movement didn’t wake them. As their cabin came around to the bottom, he found them as they’d fallen asleep: wrapped around each other, tangled like moonlight vines that had grown inseparable over the course of the night.

He smiled, shook his head, and leaned in to kick Dean’s foot.

“Get up, guys,” he said. “We’re going home.”


End file.
